About 5 months ago I accepted a job working for the US Census Bureau it was not something I had planned on.
I had spent my entire working career in fashion, but the world had turned upside down, jobs had disappeared and I wanted to work.
I suddenly found myself in a strange alien world of many forms and initials.. Nothing was ever called what it was. The office was the LCO my boss was a CL his boss was an FOS. To my complete surprise I loved what I was doing and went to work with a happy attitude that I did not have in the fashion industry. Yes I was making 75 percent less a week, but people were grateful that I was doing an excellent job and I had more thanks you's in five months then I had in my 20 year career in fashion.
My job was to interview households. I worked in two very different categories the first was in the multi million dollar homes of Fifth Ave. The second category was in tenements in some very poor sections of East Harlem. At first I was a little scared to go into an area I had never been, but I discovered another strange thing.
The residents of the million dollar homes were on the whole not very easy to deal with, but when I got to the less fortunate tenants in East Harlem everyone and I mean everyone was so nice. I came home telling my friends this, and this past Sunday in the NY Times an article appeared on how when it comes to charity the poor are much more proportionally generous then the rich. Of course it is the rich who can give the big donations but it turned out percent wise charity to earnings the poor win.
I started watching begging on the subway and realized it was the poorly dressed who would give money not the riders in their designer clothing.
Because I was so happy at my job, when the Census recently terminated 150,000 employees and kept 60 employees, (not a typo) I was one of the 60. So I discovered what I never had realized before that making big money is not the only key to happiness.
I certainly no longer have the buying power I used to have but like the residents in the tenements I am happier and more generous in my life then when I was bringing home the big bucks.
Heloise Lissauer
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Land of Mine
Sidney and I were headed to the beach; since we missed the direct train to Terracina, we took the one to Monte San Biagio. Theoretically the bus was to be waiting for us, but as customary in Italy, this was just a theory, the bus wasn't there. So we waited under the hot sun, we waited, and waited. I called my friend Rossella, she had gone back to her hometown and was telling me all about the people she had met up with, people she had not seen for over 40 years. She was happy. I started thinking about an old song that always made me cry "Paese Mio" by Jose Feliciano http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VJP3gQxpeNg
Hot and impatient I start to look around and to my delight, I see an elderly man picking figs from a tree, I immediately made my way over, the gentle man started sharing his pickings with me. And so here I am feeling 8 years old all over again and the song “Paese Mio” rang even louder in my ears. Then I started thinking of the little town I moved to in the states and thought of the song "My little town" by Simon and Garfunkel http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZmhg-ntiXQ. Two different worlds, two different cultures, two different towns.
It’s all clear to me now. I came to Rome because I needed to get back to my roots, just like Rossella, who in the past few years has been going back to her paese. I was trying to reconnect with the person that I was, the person that I am, who I will be. My life was changing, my daughters were becoming adults and no longer needed me. My accounting profession was over, it had been taken over by my ex. I had lost my identity and it was time for a change. I knew it had to be a change in my career, but what was I going to do? The last time I had needed a big change I came to Italy for almost a year and found my answer.
NYC is where my life has been, and in familiar places it’s as if I can see my footprints. I recognize them as I walk through the streets and they give me comfort and a feeling of security. New York City is my only home. There are no footprints imbedded in the cobble stones here in Rome but at times I see my family in my mind, I see them walking in the streets, drinking coffee in the bars, I see them everywhere and I miss them. Here in Italy is where my roots are. Sometime I go to the cemetery and visit with them and it gives me time to cry and it reminds me of who I am. Strangely enough, my daughters feel similarly about this cemetery in Italy, they feel a connection to their roots. I remember the first time Alanna saw my father’s grave, a little mausoleum, with the name Cavaricci in the front with pictures of him and his mother and his sister. These are people she never got to meet or know directly. She began to cry. She too felt the connection with her roots.
For the first time I realize that there is a difference between home and roots. I couldn’t understand why I kept coming here when my home sweet home is NYC. My daughters have also understood this fundamental balance, in completely different ways. Alanna, like me, sees Italy as the place where her roots lie. Her sister, Sidney, born and raised in the same house, feels quite the opposite. Her roots are in New York, but her true home is here in Rome.
As Sidney and I walk along the seashore, we watch all the Italian families laugh and yell at each other, eating their various trays of home-made lunches; the quiet tourists gently wading into the water. We see the vendors, almost all immigrants from Africa, India, the Middle East, they weave in between these families, selling their trinkets and cheap clothes so that they can send some money back to their families. Lugging heavy bags back and forth across the hot sand. We always try to buy something from them every year, they are always grateful and thankful when we do and they are friendly and inquisitive (especially about NYC), the kind of people that America was built by: hard working, sincere, with a purpose. My heart goes out to them, I imagine how hard it must be for them to be in a foreign land, far away from their family and friends with no roots and no footprints, other than the ones washed away by the waves.
Lyrics to Paese Mio :
Paese mio che stai sulla collina (My little town that’s on the hill)
disteso come un vecchio addormentato (stretched out like a sleeping old man)
la noia l'abbandono (the boredom, abandonment)
niente son la tua malattia (nothing I am your illness)
paese mio ti lascio e vado via (my town I’m leaving you and I’m going away)
che sarà che sarà che sarà (what will be what will be what will be)
che sarà della mia vita chi lo sa (what will be of my life who knows)
so far tutto o forse niente (I can do everything or maybe nothing)
da domani si vedrà (as of tomorrow we will see)
e sarà sarà quel che sarà (and it will be, it will be what it will be)
amore mio ti bacio sulla bocca (my love I kiss you on the lips)
che fu la fonte del mio primo amore (that was the source of my first love)
ti do l'appuntamento (I’m giving you a date)
come e quando non lo so (how and when I don’t know)
ma so soltanto che ritornerò (but I only know that I will return)
che sarà che sarà che sarà (what will be, what will be, what will be)
che sarà della mia vita chi lo sa (what will be of my life who will know)
con me porto la chitarra (with me I will bring my guitar)
e se la notte piangerò (and if at night I cry)
una nenia di paese suonerò (I will play a folk song of the town)
Gli amici miei son quasi tutti via (my friends have almost all gone away)
e gli altri partiranno dopo me (and the others will be leaving after me)
peccato perché stavo bene in loro compagnia (It’s a shame because I liked being in their company)
ma tutto passa tutto se ne va (But everything passes, everything goes away)
che sarà che sarà che sarà (what will be, what will be, what will be)
che sarà della mia vita chi lo sa (what will be of my life who knows)
so far tutto o forse niente (I can do everything or maybe nothing)
da domani si vedrà (as of tomorrow we will see)
e sarà sarà quel che sarà (and it will be, it will be that which will be)
che sarà che sarà che sarà (what will be, what will be, what will be)
che sarà della mia vita chi lo sa (what will be of my life who knows)
so far tutto o forse niente (I can do everything or maybe nothing)
da domani si vedrà (as of tomorrow we will see)
e sarà sarà quel che sarà (and will be will be that which will be)
Che sarà sarà (what will be will be)
Hot and impatient I start to look around and to my delight, I see an elderly man picking figs from a tree, I immediately made my way over, the gentle man started sharing his pickings with me. And so here I am feeling 8 years old all over again and the song “Paese Mio” rang even louder in my ears. Then I started thinking of the little town I moved to in the states and thought of the song "My little town" by Simon and Garfunkel http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZmhg-ntiXQ. Two different worlds, two different cultures, two different towns.
It’s all clear to me now. I came to Rome because I needed to get back to my roots, just like Rossella, who in the past few years has been going back to her paese. I was trying to reconnect with the person that I was, the person that I am, who I will be. My life was changing, my daughters were becoming adults and no longer needed me. My accounting profession was over, it had been taken over by my ex. I had lost my identity and it was time for a change. I knew it had to be a change in my career, but what was I going to do? The last time I had needed a big change I came to Italy for almost a year and found my answer.
NYC is where my life has been, and in familiar places it’s as if I can see my footprints. I recognize them as I walk through the streets and they give me comfort and a feeling of security. New York City is my only home. There are no footprints imbedded in the cobble stones here in Rome but at times I see my family in my mind, I see them walking in the streets, drinking coffee in the bars, I see them everywhere and I miss them. Here in Italy is where my roots are. Sometime I go to the cemetery and visit with them and it gives me time to cry and it reminds me of who I am. Strangely enough, my daughters feel similarly about this cemetery in Italy, they feel a connection to their roots. I remember the first time Alanna saw my father’s grave, a little mausoleum, with the name Cavaricci in the front with pictures of him and his mother and his sister. These are people she never got to meet or know directly. She began to cry. She too felt the connection with her roots.
For the first time I realize that there is a difference between home and roots. I couldn’t understand why I kept coming here when my home sweet home is NYC. My daughters have also understood this fundamental balance, in completely different ways. Alanna, like me, sees Italy as the place where her roots lie. Her sister, Sidney, born and raised in the same house, feels quite the opposite. Her roots are in New York, but her true home is here in Rome.
As Sidney and I walk along the seashore, we watch all the Italian families laugh and yell at each other, eating their various trays of home-made lunches; the quiet tourists gently wading into the water. We see the vendors, almost all immigrants from Africa, India, the Middle East, they weave in between these families, selling their trinkets and cheap clothes so that they can send some money back to their families. Lugging heavy bags back and forth across the hot sand. We always try to buy something from them every year, they are always grateful and thankful when we do and they are friendly and inquisitive (especially about NYC), the kind of people that America was built by: hard working, sincere, with a purpose. My heart goes out to them, I imagine how hard it must be for them to be in a foreign land, far away from their family and friends with no roots and no footprints, other than the ones washed away by the waves.
Lyrics to Paese Mio :
Paese mio che stai sulla collina (My little town that’s on the hill)
disteso come un vecchio addormentato (stretched out like a sleeping old man)
la noia l'abbandono (the boredom, abandonment)
niente son la tua malattia (nothing I am your illness)
paese mio ti lascio e vado via (my town I’m leaving you and I’m going away)
che sarà che sarà che sarà (what will be what will be what will be)
che sarà della mia vita chi lo sa (what will be of my life who knows)
so far tutto o forse niente (I can do everything or maybe nothing)
da domani si vedrà (as of tomorrow we will see)
e sarà sarà quel che sarà (and it will be, it will be what it will be)
amore mio ti bacio sulla bocca (my love I kiss you on the lips)
che fu la fonte del mio primo amore (that was the source of my first love)
ti do l'appuntamento (I’m giving you a date)
come e quando non lo so (how and when I don’t know)
ma so soltanto che ritornerò (but I only know that I will return)
che sarà che sarà che sarà (what will be, what will be, what will be)
che sarà della mia vita chi lo sa (what will be of my life who will know)
con me porto la chitarra (with me I will bring my guitar)
e se la notte piangerò (and if at night I cry)
una nenia di paese suonerò (I will play a folk song of the town)
Gli amici miei son quasi tutti via (my friends have almost all gone away)
e gli altri partiranno dopo me (and the others will be leaving after me)
peccato perché stavo bene in loro compagnia (It’s a shame because I liked being in their company)
ma tutto passa tutto se ne va (But everything passes, everything goes away)
che sarà che sarà che sarà (what will be, what will be, what will be)
che sarà della mia vita chi lo sa (what will be of my life who knows)
so far tutto o forse niente (I can do everything or maybe nothing)
da domani si vedrà (as of tomorrow we will see)
e sarà sarà quel che sarà (and it will be, it will be that which will be)
che sarà che sarà che sarà (what will be, what will be, what will be)
che sarà della mia vita chi lo sa (what will be of my life who knows)
so far tutto o forse niente (I can do everything or maybe nothing)
da domani si vedrà (as of tomorrow we will see)
e sarà sarà quel che sarà (and will be will be that which will be)
Che sarà sarà (what will be will be)
Sunday, July 11, 2010
You have to earn that
I was out on my morning walk with Nike the other day, my hair uncombed, my face unwashed, when out of nowhere this young man looks directly into my eyes and tells me "I love your hair!" and than adds "You had to earn that". I loved the phrase, I had never thought of my gray hair that way. But he was right, I did earn it. It took 62 years to get this way and every strand has a story. All the stories that have made me who I am today, all the stories that have given me the confidence and the strength to go on even when things seem to be falling apart.
When I was growing up it was a fact that graying men were distinguished and graying woman were just plain old. In my early 40's my hair started going grey and with that I had a decision to make. I thought about my options; should I become a slave to my hair, subject myself to a time consuming exercise to keep up the pretence of youth? Many of my friends would tell me, "Color your hair and you will lose 10 years, easy". It was a difficult decision. There had been incidents; one where a man thought I was my then life partner's mother, and another when a woman took me for my youngest daughter's grandmother. I asked my little Sidney if it bothered her that her friend's mother thought I was her grandmother, and being the wonderful little encourager that she was, looked up at me and said, "Mommy, you don't look old. It's just that people see the white hair and most of the time only grandmothers have white hair. I like your white hair."
Today 20 years later I am so happy to see, that women 50+ in Hollywood are changing the image. Women with grey hair are not only distinguished, but also sexy, beautiful, and secure. Helen Mirren, Judy Dench, Vanessa Redgrave, Meryl Streep, Glen Close, and many others have earned their grey hair.
Because Kelly Osbourne, Pixie Geldorf and many more are sporting their grey hair, I have been noticing lots of young women on the NYC streets following the trend by dying their hair grey. Grey has become the new fashion statement. If you are a young fashionista grey hair is what's in. These woman in their 20's are choosing to go grey. Much more subtle than the green, orange, blue and purple of past days.
I would never have thought this day would come. A big step for women, we have gained the right to vote, we have burned our bras, we can be single rather than spinsters, we can be mothers without being wives, and now we've gone grey. I love it.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Some Of My favorite Summer Recipes
Everyone is talking about Diet. The Nutritional Value of Diet and that eating properly keeps you healthy and slim. Nutritionists say that the Mediterranean diet is one of the healthiest. All this talk made me think of my favorite Italian Minestra - Minestrone "The Big Soup". It's delicious and healthy. My friend Rossella's father thought so too. He lived to be 101. He attributed his good health and longevity to eating fresh minestrone every day of his life. This soup is so good with so many different possible recipes that it's a crime to repeat it. Every time you make it it's different and every time it's delicious.
As a little girl I would go to the market with my mother and everyday and every season the vegetables were different and therefore so was the soup. I used to look forward to the new season that brought my favorite vegetables; while some children anxiously awaited their summer vacation, all I was waiting for were the tomatoes and the fava beans; when classes resumed in the Fall, roasted Chestnuts were always a favorite but cauliflower and pumpkin made that minestrone oh so sweet;
At Christmas, the traditional sweets were definitely on my list but the artichokes took first place, during Easter break I feasted on asparagus and beets.
This, like many other Italian traditions,I passed on to my daughters, and they enjoyed it just as much as I did. While living in Italy with my daughter and her dog, Nike I was able to give her that same experience I had had. Living near Campo d' Fiori going to the fresh food market in the morning meant no more than a short stroll with Nike. By the time Sidney came home from school there would be a bowl of hot minestrone on the table? in the winter, and a cold bowl in the summer. Nike enjoyed the minestrone just as much as we did and always begged for seconds!
Here are some of the recipes from my Italian childhood that are both healthy and delicious. Of course I am no chef and have never followed a recipe, as a true Italian I make it up as I go along, therefore I will give you the base ingredients and the rest is up to you. First I give you, Minestrone. It can be one of the most creative and inventive minestre. A minestra that gives you a chance to be an artist.
You start by boiling water in a deep pan, to this water you add onions, garlic, carrots, celery, potato, and beans. After about 15 minutes add tomatoes and all the wonderful fresh and in-season vegetables you can find. The more the merrier. I always include chile peppers, not only do they help your circulation but you may never need to spend another penny on viagra. http://www.academiabarilla.com/italian-culinary-tradition/spice-herbs-dressings/peperoncino.aspx. Once all of your vegetables are in the pot, cover it and let it cook for another 15 minutes or until it's done to your liking. Spices are optional and encouraged.
Before serving put a little "first cold pressed olive oil" in the bottom of your bowl and add fresh parsley on top. Sometimes I also grate some Parmigiano Reggiano on top. You can have it over pasta, rice, barley or toasted bread. Toasted bread should be added at the bottom of the bowl with the olive oil. Any combination you choose is delicious and this is one plate that never gets boring. It so much resembles life and all the changes that it brings. 10cc thought so too as they wrote a song about it "Life is a Minestrone" 1975 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jKG6CJWISVo
You my ask yoursef what does this have to do with life changes. Everything, changing your diet for the better is always a step forward.
Stay tuned for the next recipe.
As a little girl I would go to the market with my mother and everyday and every season the vegetables were different and therefore so was the soup. I used to look forward to the new season that brought my favorite vegetables; while some children anxiously awaited their summer vacation, all I was waiting for were the tomatoes and the fava beans; when classes resumed in the Fall, roasted Chestnuts were always a favorite but cauliflower and pumpkin made that minestrone oh so sweet;
At Christmas, the traditional sweets were definitely on my list but the artichokes took first place, during Easter break I feasted on asparagus and beets.
This, like many other Italian traditions,I passed on to my daughters, and they enjoyed it just as much as I did. While living in Italy with my daughter and her dog, Nike I was able to give her that same experience I had had. Living near Campo d' Fiori going to the fresh food market in the morning meant no more than a short stroll with Nike. By the time Sidney came home from school there would be a bowl of hot minestrone on the table? in the winter, and a cold bowl in the summer. Nike enjoyed the minestrone just as much as we did and always begged for seconds!
Here are some of the recipes from my Italian childhood that are both healthy and delicious. Of course I am no chef and have never followed a recipe, as a true Italian I make it up as I go along, therefore I will give you the base ingredients and the rest is up to you. First I give you, Minestrone. It can be one of the most creative and inventive minestre. A minestra that gives you a chance to be an artist.
You start by boiling water in a deep pan, to this water you add onions, garlic, carrots, celery, potato, and beans. After about 15 minutes add tomatoes and all the wonderful fresh and in-season vegetables you can find. The more the merrier. I always include chile peppers, not only do they help your circulation but you may never need to spend another penny on viagra. http://www.academiabarilla.com/italian-culinary-tradition/spice-herbs-dressings/peperoncino.aspx. Once all of your vegetables are in the pot, cover it and let it cook for another 15 minutes or until it's done to your liking. Spices are optional and encouraged.
Before serving put a little "first cold pressed olive oil" in the bottom of your bowl and add fresh parsley on top. Sometimes I also grate some Parmigiano Reggiano on top. You can have it over pasta, rice, barley or toasted bread. Toasted bread should be added at the bottom of the bowl with the olive oil. Any combination you choose is delicious and this is one plate that never gets boring. It so much resembles life and all the changes that it brings. 10cc thought so too as they wrote a song about it "Life is a Minestrone" 1975 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jKG6CJWISVo
You my ask yoursef what does this have to do with life changes. Everything, changing your diet for the better is always a step forward.
Stay tuned for the next recipe.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Acceptance
After reading "Unbreak My Heart" in Ann Munday's Musing http://annmundaymusing.blogspot.com/2010/06/unbreak-my-heart.html?, about the Five Stages of Grieving, I started thinking about these stages; Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance, and what they really mean to me. The first four stages seem to be automatic, a natural process and easily recognizable. The final stage is the most ambiguous as well as the most difficult to arrive at.
I have had many friends who have suffered the loss of a loved one, through their stories, ones that I have heard, and my own experience, I realized that Acceptance is the most difficult of these stages and for some totally unattainable. That's why there are so many songs sung, so many poems and books and blogs written, so many movies produced. We need to adjust to the loss, make it a part of our life. If we don't go through the last stage all the other stages keep coming back. it's like being on a treadmill unable to get off.
So what do we do, we try meditation, we read what Buddah and the Dalai Lama have to say, we try new interests, we surround ourselves with family and friends. We try everything possible, but to no avail. We still miss our losses, they will always stay with us. We have to find a way to incorporate them into our lives. These experiences make us richer, more understanding and compassionate people. I grew to understand that Acceptance is not stopping the pain, it's merely learning to live with the pain and the loss.
So how do we deal with the loss of a loved one, the loss of our home, the loss of our careers, the loss of our finances and the pain that comes along with it. Of course we all have our different ways of dealing with them. John Lennon conveyed it well - that 'Whatever Gets You Through The Night', 'is all right',meaning that we must do whatever works for us to get us through our pain, and from my mother's generation a similar directive from Eduardo di filippo, Italian playwright and philosopher, who ends one of his plays with "Ha da passa' 'a nuttata," which translated is, you got to get through the nights.
For example, my Zia Mara, lost her daughter through leukemia over 30 years ago, when Ines was still in her teens. Every night from the day of her death to this day, she writes beautiful letters to Ines, telling her all that is happening in her life and in the world, she tells her how much she and everyone loves her. My aunt saves these letters and she is convinced that through these letters she is communicating with Ines. This is how my zia deals with the loss of her daughter. Is this acceptance?
Growing up I have had several friends who lost their mothers at a young age and yet all of them felt that their mothers were right there protecting them. Still, these women today, in their sixties, are missing their mothers. Yes, they have had happy lives, have succeeded in their careers and had wonderful families of their own. Yes, they all spent many many years in therapy. So, is this Acceptance?
As I have learned through my life experience, our loved ones will never be forgotten, we have a special place reserved inside of us for the special people who have touched us. Our life is still beautiful, but there will always be that empty space that no one can fill; that space reserved for that special person. This to me is Acceptance.
I have had many friends who have suffered the loss of a loved one, through their stories, ones that I have heard, and my own experience, I realized that Acceptance is the most difficult of these stages and for some totally unattainable. That's why there are so many songs sung, so many poems and books and blogs written, so many movies produced. We need to adjust to the loss, make it a part of our life. If we don't go through the last stage all the other stages keep coming back. it's like being on a treadmill unable to get off.
So what do we do, we try meditation, we read what Buddah and the Dalai Lama have to say, we try new interests, we surround ourselves with family and friends. We try everything possible, but to no avail. We still miss our losses, they will always stay with us. We have to find a way to incorporate them into our lives. These experiences make us richer, more understanding and compassionate people. I grew to understand that Acceptance is not stopping the pain, it's merely learning to live with the pain and the loss.
So how do we deal with the loss of a loved one, the loss of our home, the loss of our careers, the loss of our finances and the pain that comes along with it. Of course we all have our different ways of dealing with them. John Lennon conveyed it well - that 'Whatever Gets You Through The Night', 'is all right',meaning that we must do whatever works for us to get us through our pain, and from my mother's generation a similar directive from Eduardo di filippo, Italian playwright and philosopher, who ends one of his plays with "Ha da passa' 'a nuttata," which translated is, you got to get through the nights.
For example, my Zia Mara, lost her daughter through leukemia over 30 years ago, when Ines was still in her teens. Every night from the day of her death to this day, she writes beautiful letters to Ines, telling her all that is happening in her life and in the world, she tells her how much she and everyone loves her. My aunt saves these letters and she is convinced that through these letters she is communicating with Ines. This is how my zia deals with the loss of her daughter. Is this acceptance?
Growing up I have had several friends who lost their mothers at a young age and yet all of them felt that their mothers were right there protecting them. Still, these women today, in their sixties, are missing their mothers. Yes, they have had happy lives, have succeeded in their careers and had wonderful families of their own. Yes, they all spent many many years in therapy. So, is this Acceptance?
As I have learned through my life experience, our loved ones will never be forgotten, we have a special place reserved inside of us for the special people who have touched us. Our life is still beautiful, but there will always be that empty space that no one can fill; that space reserved for that special person. This to me is Acceptance.
Monday, May 24, 2010
"They Fuck You Up"
This morning while sipping my tea on my balcony, I started singing Julie Andrews song "the lusty month of May" from Camelot
" Tra la! It's May!
The lusty month of May!"
As I sang to myself I realize that both of my parents were born in May and my mom's birthday was coming up soon. I started thinking back to my life as a child, a young adult, a single woman, a mother and wife, and then single again. Back in 1971 I read Philip Larkin's poem whose title I have never forgotten and sums up the 70's and all that went with it. This is when I realized not everything is like Camelot.
"They Fuck You Up"
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.
My generation can relate to this poem, but the new generation, my daughters and their friends do they feel the same? Do my daughters blame me for their problems? Our parents had children at a young age, so my generation, we waited. I had my first daughter at 35. I waited until I had my life together , until I was a responsible adult, independent, and self-sufficient. If you ask my daughters though, I could have spared myself the wait. I was curious how the new generation related to this poem, so I asked my daughters. I guess Philip Larkin's poem is timeless, because they agree with it just as much as I did. The only difference is that this generation's reinvention of parenting is to have children at a younger age. I have two nieces both younger than 35 with two kids each and this seems to be the trend today.
Although parenting might be easier now with the parenting blogs, books, and DVD's, I'm sure even in 200 years there will be a teenager who will find this poem and have a very similar reaction as mine and my daughters'. In the words of Rita from Showtime's Dexter,
"You're a parent, you'll do damage"
" Tra la! It's May!
The lusty month of May!"
As I sang to myself I realize that both of my parents were born in May and my mom's birthday was coming up soon. I started thinking back to my life as a child, a young adult, a single woman, a mother and wife, and then single again. Back in 1971 I read Philip Larkin's poem whose title I have never forgotten and sums up the 70's and all that went with it. This is when I realized not everything is like Camelot.
"They Fuck You Up"
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.
My generation can relate to this poem, but the new generation, my daughters and their friends do they feel the same? Do my daughters blame me for their problems? Our parents had children at a young age, so my generation, we waited. I had my first daughter at 35. I waited until I had my life together , until I was a responsible adult, independent, and self-sufficient. If you ask my daughters though, I could have spared myself the wait. I was curious how the new generation related to this poem, so I asked my daughters. I guess Philip Larkin's poem is timeless, because they agree with it just as much as I did. The only difference is that this generation's reinvention of parenting is to have children at a younger age. I have two nieces both younger than 35 with two kids each and this seems to be the trend today.
Although parenting might be easier now with the parenting blogs, books, and DVD's, I'm sure even in 200 years there will be a teenager who will find this poem and have a very similar reaction as mine and my daughters'. In the words of Rita from Showtime's Dexter,
"You're a parent, you'll do damage"
Friday, April 9, 2010
Easter In Terracina
Here I am for the first time in my life celebrating Easter with friends in my summer home in Terracina, Italy. My family (daughters, mother, sister, brother in law, nieces, their husbands, grand nieces and nephews) all in NYC.
My friends and guests came from Rome, Florence, Venice and Priverno to spend time together. My apartment is filled with laughter, good food, wine, grappa, home-made limoncello, on and on. Our breakfast, cappuccino e bomba con la crema were consumed at our favorite bar on the piazza where all in one place we could see and feel history spanning from the Roman through modern times. My long walks on the beach were used for introspection and assessing my past, planning my future but most of all enjoying and living in the present, that instant moment which soon would become the past.
Because most of my guests were not from Terracina, I showed them my favorite sites among them the town orphanage, the best villa ever. We decided to take a guided tour of the centro storico. The guide a handsome, distinguished man, an historian-archeologist shows us a statue of a Roman nobildonna (might be Caelia Macrina) recently found while excavating the Roman Theatre on the Piazza Municipale. A Roman woman - Caelia Macrina from Terracina. Having lost a young son, in his memory, founded and funded an orphanage for boys and girls. The sum was so large that the impoverished children were well taken care of long after she had died and her tradition is still carried out today.
I was so taken by her story that I quickly went to the best bookstore in town trying to find out more, after all she is a woman after my own heart, but no books were written about her, no pictures, the statue was headless. I searched the internet but not much there except
http://www.brooklynmuseum.org/eascfa/dinner_party/heritage_floor/search.php?psgroup=14
“Caelia Macrina
Flourished circa A.D. 150, Tarracina, Italy
Little is known about the Roman woman Caelia Macrina except that some time in the second century A.D., in the town of Tarracina southeast of Rome, she donated a large sum of money for the construction of a building and for a food fund to support 200 impoverished children. A dedicatory inscription originally attached to the building reveals that Caelia's welfare grants were somewhat unusual in that they were more generous to girls than was typical of the time.”
A few years ago, I was there at the Brooklyn Museum to see the exposition of the Dinner Party by Judy Chicago and did not take note of this woman Caelia, so admired by me at this very moment. Seeing her statue, the place where she lived, the building she funded was very emotional and memorable. This guided tour has opened a new world of interest of the Roman women and their roles they played in molding who we are today.
My friends and guests came from Rome, Florence, Venice and Priverno to spend time together. My apartment is filled with laughter, good food, wine, grappa, home-made limoncello, on and on. Our breakfast, cappuccino e bomba con la crema were consumed at our favorite bar on the piazza where all in one place we could see and feel history spanning from the Roman through modern times. My long walks on the beach were used for introspection and assessing my past, planning my future but most of all enjoying and living in the present, that instant moment which soon would become the past.
Because most of my guests were not from Terracina, I showed them my favorite sites among them the town orphanage, the best villa ever. We decided to take a guided tour of the centro storico. The guide a handsome, distinguished man, an historian-archeologist shows us a statue of a Roman nobildonna (might be Caelia Macrina) recently found while excavating the Roman Theatre on the Piazza Municipale. A Roman woman - Caelia Macrina from Terracina. Having lost a young son, in his memory, founded and funded an orphanage for boys and girls. The sum was so large that the impoverished children were well taken care of long after she had died and her tradition is still carried out today.
I was so taken by her story that I quickly went to the best bookstore in town trying to find out more, after all she is a woman after my own heart, but no books were written about her, no pictures, the statue was headless. I searched the internet but not much there except
http://www.brooklynmuseum.org/eascfa/dinner_party/heritage_floor/search.php?psgroup=14
“Caelia Macrina
Flourished circa A.D. 150, Tarracina, Italy
Little is known about the Roman woman Caelia Macrina except that some time in the second century A.D., in the town of Tarracina southeast of Rome, she donated a large sum of money for the construction of a building and for a food fund to support 200 impoverished children. A dedicatory inscription originally attached to the building reveals that Caelia's welfare grants were somewhat unusual in that they were more generous to girls than was typical of the time.”
A few years ago, I was there at the Brooklyn Museum to see the exposition of the Dinner Party by Judy Chicago and did not take note of this woman Caelia, so admired by me at this very moment. Seeing her statue, the place where she lived, the building she funded was very emotional and memorable. This guided tour has opened a new world of interest of the Roman women and their roles they played in molding who we are today.
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